


For artistic purposes, of course

by IKHoldrige73



Category: Free!
Genre: Anyways, M/M, artist/model!au, i should've probably put them instead of taiga and souji, this was so fun omg, though i feel bad because i couldn't fit nagisa and rei in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKHoldrige73/pseuds/IKHoldrige73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto is bored with having to pose in front of the camera all day, and Rin happens to have a painter friend who really needs a model to pose for him. Rin gives Haruka a call and they set up a date for the model to drive over to his house to meet up. </p><p>Artist and model take an instant liking to each other, and Makoto's eyes are too green.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For artistic purposes, of course

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhMyNanase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyNanase/gifts).



> Kagami makes him doubt things, his eyes turn out to be too green, and he doesn't get why Rin had kept Haru's existance in the dark for so long.

He’s been in the industry for—how many years now?

Makoto tends to forget easily, since it’s been a long time since he _started_ , but he figures it doesn’t matter much anymore. He’s been in the modeling industry for a long time and he’s had what to eat from that, so he won’t complain. It is true that, sometimes, he wishes there was _more_ to do, other than stand there and make pretty faces at the camera, but those thought don’t assault him often and he’s—mostly—content with his work.

Until, of course, Kagami manages to push those thoughts into his head by force.

The brunet met Taiga Kagami when he was a younger boy—the red haired had just been starting in the business and _would not stand still for the damn photograph_. Somehow, Makoto managed to placate the other boy by telling him they would go out and play some basketball if he just did what the photographer told him to do, and they’d ended up being friends after that.

( _Not_ because of Makoto’s skills at basketball, mind you. Taiga liked the boy because he was cute and attentive of him—he sucked at playing ball.)

The point is, Kagami has a natural ability to get Tachibana to overthink things and now he can’t stop _overthinking_ about his career and his life choices.

“You listen to him too much,” Rin tells him one day, playing with his drink absentmindedly “Just forget it—you said you were happy with your career and I think you should keep it like that.”

Rin Matsuoka has been his friend for even a longer amount of time. They’ve known each other since they were in diapers and he’s just generally become the voice that yells at him when his own conscience decides to _not_ make an appearance around his brain. He’s not on the modeling business—although Makoto has told him _plenty_ of times that he has the face and the body for it; Rin just doesn’t like being in front of a camera—but he has been with Tachibana every step of the way and he feels like he owes the shark teeth a bit of credit.

“But,” Makoto should know by now ‘but’s are not okay in Rin’s vocabulary; he uses them anyway “He’s right, Rin—maybe I should do something different, just to get this thing off my chest.”

Matsuoka looks unimpressed as he pushed his drink away from him in order to stare at Tachibana properly. Makoto has always found his best friend’s eyes a bit harsh, even more so when they are _glaring_ , so he shrinks back into himself and grimaces. “What is exactly that thing on your chest?”

The brunet mumbles something and Rin has to lean forward “What did you say? Speak up!”

“I’m bored,” this time his mumbled is audible and the red haired man just slumps back into his seat, a confused expression on his face.

Rin supposes he _gets_ it, because it must be tiring to have to stand before a camera every single day of your life. He _knows_ Makoto’s daily life: a photoshoot here, an interview there—it must get quite tedious after you do it every single day. He also knows there are a lot of things Makoto could’ve been—could _be_ —if he’d given himself the chance, and he wonders briefly if it isn’t too late to stir him closer to a career of some sorts.

“I have a _friend_ ,” Rin is not all that sure that’s the correct way to address Haruka Nanase, but he figures it’s the best he can think of at the moment “Who’s studying art, and he needs a model—someone who, preferably, has ounces of patience to give out.” 

Makoto considers this for a minute, staring at his coffee with a small frown on his lips. Being a model to an art student is considerably different from being one to a photographer—photographers are loud and they’re constantly telling you what they want from you; artists just stare at you for a long amount of time and don’t say much. He’s never modeled for one, but he has heard from Souji that they’re very nice to work with.

“I could give him a call, if you want me too?”

The brunet is agreeing before he realizes what he is doing.

\--

Haruka looks down at his watch, a small frown appearing in his lips as he notices the hour. He huffs distastefully and leans back into his couch— _models_. Rin said this guy was his best friend, and that he was the nicest, most patient guy he knew of—not to mention he was a professional model who had a nice face to look at. Nanase didn’t know about that and he was getting pissed off that this guy didn’t seem to make an appearance.

They’d talked on the phone two days prior to this, setting a date, place and a time when they could meet, and Haru had cited him over to his house. He had _specifically_ said four-thirty and it was already _way_ past that time.

“Call us when you’re done!” it’s a foreign voice, and Haru peels himself off the couch in order to peek out his window. A car has parked itself in the street with three guys inside—a brunet, looking flustered and frankly annoyed, opens the passenger door and slides out into the open.

“You might as well stay here, because I’m practically an hour late thanks to you, and he probably doesn’t even want to work with me anymore” Haru bites back a smile as the brunet turns back to yell at the red haired man sitting behind the wheel. “I swear you both will be the end of my career.”

The red haired looks almost offended, leaning forward to stare at his friend “Well, excuse me, mister-I’m-always-on-time! It’s not my fault the prince over here takes _forever_ to get ready!” he points aggressively at the grey-haired man on the back, who only looks up from his book to glare at both of them for a second.

The painter decides it would be for the best if he stops the men from fighting—he’s been waiting for this model to appear and, now that he is here, he would like it very much if he could actually start doing _something_. He pulls his door open and walks outside “Tachibana?”

The brunet turns to look behind him sharply, eyes wide and a little terrified. “Y-yeah! I’m so sorry about being late! I swear I—“

“Come on in,” Haruka doesn’t let him finish, turning around in hopes of getting the model to _shut up_ and walk into the house. It seems to work, because he can hear the brunet—Makoto, he reminds himself—walking behind him after having told his friends he’d see them later.

The painter guides them to one of the back rooms—it’s spacious and has all of the tools Haruka needs for painting—and points to a small, one-seater that’s in the middle of the room. “Get yourself comfortable,” he tells the model, turning away to start preparing the essentials. “We’ll start in a moment.”

Makoto stares at Haru, taking in the way his brow furrows as he looks for things around the room and the smooth smile that passes briefly through his lips when he finally finds them. He’s a good-looking guy, with straight black hair and the bluest eyes the model has had the honor to look upon. He notices the other is not very expressive—doesn’t say much and keeps his reactions to a minimum—but his eyes say so much.

Tachibana doesn’t know when it was the last time he felt so _attracted_ to someone.

“I’m really sorry about being late today,” the model says, looking at his feet as if they’re the most interesting thing “My friends they—ah—Taiga drives really slowly and Souji likes to take his time in the bathroom in the mornings.”

There’s a sound of amusement coming from Haru, though it doesn’t develop into an actual laugh, and it makes Makoto feel warm all over. “I guessed it would happen,” the painter shrugs, pulling out a canvas from a black, zipped-up bag in a corner of the room “Professional models and all that.”

Makoto chuckles a bit, choosing not to feel offended about that, and turns his head up again where he is met with bright blue eyes staring at him—scanning his face. The model feels his face heat up almost instantly, and he leans back a bit, certainly uncomfortable.

(And is that a _smile_? Why is the painter smiling? Dear god, Makoto will _faint_.)

“I’ll have to get some new green paint,” Haru says absentmindedly, completely absorbed in the other man’s eyes “I don’t think I own that kind of green.”

(Okay, _now_ is when Makoto will faint; he’s sure of it. He’s beginning to see stars.)

Tachibana lets out a feeble laugh, leaning back into the cushion as an attempt to regain some personal space. Haruka seems to be having none of that, as he leans forward to continue studying the model before him—beautiful green eyes wide open, mouth slightly parted around an unspoken word and brows furrowed in mild concern. There’s something about the hard-lines of his jaw and the laugh lines that already crinkle his eyes at such a young age that makes Haru _want_ to paint him.

Nanase can’t remember the last time he was so attracted to something else than water.

“Na-Nanase?”

Broken out of his reverie, the painter’s eyes snap up to look straight into pools of green from where they had been staring at Makoto’s mouth. The model doesn’t seem to notice, so Haru pushes himself off the couch easily and turns away in hopes of hiding the light pink dusting across his cheeks.

“Let’s begin, then.”

\--

Makoto finally understands why Rin told him this was a job for a patient man.

He’s been sitting in the same place for over an hour now, staring at everything in the room without moving and looking anything but comfortable. Haru hasn’t said a word since he began working, so there’s no way small talk can be achieved when the other man seems to reluctant to give it out. The model is beginning to get a little anxious and he begins to bounce his legs in an attempt to release some tension.

“Tachibana,” it’s the first time the painter has looked up from the canvas, and it startles Makoto a bit “You do know you can move a bit now, right? I mean, I still need you to come back to the same position once in a while, just to check shadows but—“

Haruka hadn’t been expecting such a quick reaction to this, as he watches the other stretch his arms above his head and let out a long sigh out of his mouth. The painter bites back the fond smile that’s been meaning to slide into his lips, and hides behind his easel again just in case.

He’s worked with other models before—all air heads that complained about the position over and over again—and Makoto was definitely different to them. Rin had been right; he was a kind person, with the patience of gods, and an _amazing_ face to look out, if Haru was being honest with himself. Not only that, but he had gone with whatever the painter had said—no talk backs or ‘suggestions’.

(Nanase would _not_ admit he liked the man; no way in hell that’s happening.)

\--

It’s been another thirty minutes.

Makoto’s relieved he can move around a little more freely now that Haru is done with the sketch, but he’s always hated silences and he wants so desperately to fill the one that keeps stretching between them. He fiddles with his hands, pulls out his phone, bounces his leg in places because he doesn’t know what to do.

(It doesn’t go unnoticed.)

“So,” Makoto begins, hoping he doesn’t get chastised for it “What’s this painting for?”

Haru doesn’t seem fazed—doesn’t even look up from his painting—as he answers the question “Final grade for this one class” the last words are a little mumbled as blue eyes shift between the model and his canvas.

Tachibana thinks maybe he should press it, but Nanase doesn’t seem _annoyed_ at having him talk—he can’t stand _silence_. “And, how long have you known Rin?”

The painter thinks about it for a second, leans back in his stool to mull it over, before continuing to paint soft strokes on the canvas “We met a swim competition back in high school.”

(Makoto will have a talk with Matsuoka—why has he been hiding this man since _high school_?)

They fall into a comfortable silence. Makoto can’t think of a single other question that could break the ice between them, so he chooses instead to keep quiet. He continues to fiddle with his thumbs, biting his bottom lip as green eyes skip from one place to another in the room he has memorized after an hour and a half of staring at it.

“How long have you been in the industry?”

Haru’s voice sounds a little foreign in his ear, especially since _he’s_ the one to begin the conversation this time. The model can’t say he was expecting this at all, because this was the last thing on his list of ‘possible-things-to-happen’. He’s not about to complain, sure, but he is slightly taken off guard by it.

“Can’t really tell you an exact number,” he answers—finally—with a small chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck. “I got my first job when I was a toddler, and my mother was an overexcited woman with a _really cute child_.” He laughs again, softly, and then blushes when he realizes what he has said “Those were her words, at least! It’s not like I think I was a cute child or--!”

Haruka doesn’t stop the smile that breaks way through his face and he lets out a soft laugh through his nose “I’m sure you were an adorable child.”

(The way Tachibana’s face lights up like a Christmas’ tree is enough to warm Haru’s insides like wildfire.)

“Thank you.”

The painter shrugs and thinks about another question to ask. He’s seen the way Makoto keeps vibrating with energy and he figures some conversation won’t hurt either of them. “And your friends? The ones who make you late? How long have you known them?”

Makoto seems to be very fond of his friends, what with the way his smile grows bigger and fonder the moment Haru’s question leaves his mouth “I met Taiga—the red headed idiot driving the car earlier today—when we were seven. He had a photo-shoot before me, but the photographer couldn’t get a single good shot because he was so eager to get out and play basketball,” he laughs, as if remembering the memory “My mom send me as a peace keeper and I managed to bribe little Taiga into cooperating with the promise of basketball together later—I got my ass handed to me later that evening.”

 _That’s cute_ , Haruka thinks, stopping in his work all-together to stare at Makoto’s smiling face.

“Grey-hair?”

Tachibana is taken aback a little bit, but catches on easily “Oh, the prince?” Nanase makes a confused expression at the nickname and Makoto has to remind himself—Haruka doesn’t actually _know_ his friends “That would be Souji. We did a photo-shoot together when we were fourteen and we hit it off pretty easily. Later I introduced him to Taiga and we all ended up being really good friends afterwards—we have our own little apartment together and have been working for the same agency for a while now.”

Haru nods softly as he leans forward to continue with his painting “That’s nice—that you have friends in that kind of industry.”

(Makoto knows he is right, but doesn’t comment on it.)

\--

They end up hitting the local art supply store a while later, when the sun has hidden itself behind the mountains and the cold, crisp night-air has forced Haruka to lend one of his biggest jackets to Makoto. They drive all the way there, and then spend almost twenty minutes looking for a shade of green that would even remotely look like Tachibana’s eyes.

(Haruka doesn’t believe he’ll find the right shade, but he keeps looking anyway.)

\--

It’s pretty late when Haruka finally tells Makoto he should head home for the day.

The model doesn’t want to leave and the painter doesn’t want him to leave, but it isn’t like the brunet can spend the night and it’s almost eleven o’clock—that’s not a reasonable hour for such a handsome man to be walking around unprotected.

(No, Haru did not just think that, shut up.)

“Are you sure it’s okay if I leave?” Makoto asks for the nth time as he begins to pick his stuff up.

The painter huffs and nods “There’s not even daylight anymore—I doubt I can make much progress without actual daylight falling on your back.” He wonders if that’s sounded too weird “Call your friends and tell them to come pick you up—they’re probably worried about you.”

Tachibana bites the inside of his cheek and sighs, finally giving in “Fine.” And he makes the call.

They hear Kagami’s car outside before the red haired’s message actually gets to Makoto’s phone, and they’re both at the door before they know it. Upon further inspection, they both look a lot tired than they had said they were, but there are smiles on their faces—actual, sincere smiles that reach their eyes.

“Hey,” Makoto says, looking over his shoulder before he can get into the car “After you’re done with my portrait, is it okay if we go out for some dinner, or something?”

Haruka doesn’t hesitate when he says yes. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have uploaded three fanfics in the span of two days, I dunno what's up with me this week cx Thank you for reading and do leave a comment if you have the time and spirits for it!


End file.
